


Things (that should be) more important than Wood

by wisia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many important things to think about, especially after a war, but how did Oliver ended up as one of those things?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things (that should be) more important than Wood

**Author's Note:**

> Just thought I'll finally crosspost this from my LJ. I actually do like this one.
> 
> \----
> 
> I was going to write something serious, but it just didn’t work out. It came out kind of weird, but I can’t control what comes out of my pen. My first time writing Percy/Oliver…so I hope the characterizations isn’t too off. I tried to use some British terms and things, but being an American—well, it probably turned out wrong. So, feel free to Brit-pick if you feel like it or can do so. I will fix them. I was going to wait and see if I could get a beta, but I figure I’ll just post it now and get it out of the way. Otherwise, once the week starts again, I will probably forget to post it. Then, who knows if I'll ever post it?

Percy blinked. Why was he in a pub again? Then he chanced a glance to his right. Oh, that’s right. Oliver Wood grinned at him, the complete image of being extremely pissed but having a splendid time and bound to have a monstrosity of a hang over tomorrow. It was sweet, even with the slurring and glazed eyes. Percy blinked again. He did not just think that. He heaved a sigh and rubbed his temples, ignoring his ill ordered gillywater in front of him. There were more important things to worry about…like his entirely shaky relationship with his family and how to mend it, or his ministry job that would leave him unemployed (never mind that he said he would resign—heat of the battle, stupid thing to say even if the minister was corrupt), or how to get Oliver fucking Wood to noti—no, those were the three—two—most important things to do on his list. Then, Oliver slung an arm around Percy’s shoulder.

“What’re you thinkin’ so (hic) hard about? It’s a party!” Oliver gestured to the overtly large amount of people in the pub. It amazed Percy he even had room to move. “You’re suppose ta enjoy yourself.”

Percy gingerly (and reluctantly) eased himself from under Oliver’s arm. “If that is what one normally enjoys, which I do not. There are far more important things to do than sitting here and getting pissed.”

Namely, how to get into a Quidditch player’s trousers. No, Percy frowned. That didn’t sound quite right. It should be how were Hogwarts and the various areas of Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and every other war torn place going to be repaired. Percy eyed his drink suspiciously. It wasn’t possible that someone had thought to give his drink a happy free of charge addition. Percy was sure he would notice if someone had. Oliver snickered into his how ever number of glass of fire whiskey.

“That’s my Perce, always thinkin’ about important things.”

Percy inwardly cringed at the shortening of his name and blushed when he realized that Oliver added “my”, which was a strange thing for Oliver to do when they hadn’t seen each other in a long time. They weren’t anything more than former dorm mates. In fact, Percy only bumped into Oliver last week, a few days after the battle.

“I think”—Percy winced at how high his voice came out—“you had too much to drink.”

“Sorry?” Oliver replied. He couldn’t really hear Percy over all the noises.

“I said, I think you had too much to drink,” Percy repeated.

He was startled as Oliver leaned far too close to him and said in his ear, “Repeat what you said again.”

Percy quickly redirected his eyes away from Oliver’s face (and lips) and down at his hands. He should make a quick exit.

“Nothing,” he said precisely because he couldn’t allow himself to mumble even if he wanted to. “I think I’m going to go home now.”

“Oooh!” Oliver said wide eyed and excited. “Take me with you!”

“Pardon?” Percy jerked. He wasn’t sure if he heard what he thought he heard.

“Take me with you!”

Oliver was more than excited now. He stumbled off his seat and pulled Percy up. Then, Oliver proceeded to tug Percy out the door. Percy didn’t have a chance to react till they were outside.

“Uh,” Percy looked at Oliver, his cheeks colouring, “would you like me to take you home?”

“Yes,” Oliver said. “I’ve always wanted to see where Percy the perfect Headboy lives.”

Percy nearly gaped. That was an almost entirely lucid and clear statement. Then, he choked as he thought about taking Oliver home to his flat. It sounded right. Wrong. Percy coughed.

“Yes, well, I think that isn’t possible. Percy the perfect Headboy,” Percy grimaced, “lived at the Burrow. I live somewhere else entirely.”

Indeed, Percy lived somewhere else entirely, far from the Burrow and its cheerful warm family atmosphere. He really needed to find a way to reconcile with his family, but he didn’t think that would happen any time soon. Though, Percy thought, it was probably best if he started with mum. She would be reasonable and more forgiving than everyone else in the family even if he did return his Weasley jumper. Or maybe he should put it off. After he got fired from the ministry, found a new job, resettled, let the wounds heal from the war and Fred’s death (shit, Fred, I killed him) and definitely after he got—Oliver poked him—after he got Oliver in his bed. Percy shook his head as Oliver poked him again.

“What was that for?” Percy arched an eyebrow at Oliver. It was a good thing Oliver didn’t know, at least he was sure Oliver didn’t know, legilimency.

“You’re not paying attenshon to me,” Oliver whined. “And I want to go home. Your place.”

As much as Percy thought he should decline, he didn’t know where Oliver was staying and he couldn’t very well leave a man overloaded on fire whiskey out to terrorize the broken rubbles and remains of the street. It was in Percy’s good conscience that he took Oliver home with him. Really, that was it. Not the remark that Oliver believed home to be Percy’s place.

“Very well,” Percy said. “I’ll apparate us since you don’t have the faculties to do that safely.”

He reached for Oliver’s arm to do a side-along, but Oliver darted out of Percy’s hand.

“Oliver!”

Oliver smiled at Percy, “I don’t want to apparate.”

“How else are we supposed to get to my place?” Percy said, irritated. Then, he saw the gleam in Oliver’s eyes. “No! I refuse.”

Oliver had produced a broom from somewhere, like magic. He held out the broom proudly, “we’re going to fly!”

“We are not!” Percy said. “We’re most definitely not flying.”

Oliver shook the broom empathically. “Flying. Now.”

Percy groaned. He knew, or rather heard from past tales from his days at Hogwarts, that a drunk Oliver was also a stubborn Oliver. Percy fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, looked at the broom, looked at Oliver, fiddled with his sleeve again and decided there was no way he could avoid flying after a careful calculation in his head.

“Itsh okay. I’m a very good flyer,” Oliver confided. “Haven’t you ever seen my broom? Me flying?”

Percy swallowed hard. He was sure there were many innuendos concerning Oliver and his flying skills.

“Let’s go,” Percy said tersely, moving from that train of thought. “I want to get home before it’s tomorrow afternoon. Merlin knows how long it’ll take flying.”

Oliver obliged. He patted the back of his broom. Percy gently pushed and scooted Oliver down and sat in front. Like he was going to let the man steer as well. Oliver didn’t even know where Percy lived! If he was going to fly home, Percy was going to make sure he would get home in one piece. As good a flyer as Oliver was (he was playing for Puddlemere, wasn’t he?), he was still intoxicated. A few seconds later and they were up in the air.

“Hm…so pretty,” Oliver slurred into Percy’s ear, commenting on the night sky. Percy turned red. How could that sound even remotely sexy? He had never thought that a man pissed off his arse would be appealing, but clearly Percy had never seen Oliver Wood. He bit the inside of his cheeks. It wasn’t like he had a chance anyway and, as Percy reminded himself once more, there were far more important things to think about and do. Things that should be more important than Oliver Wood.

Percy let out a tiny scream of terror as Oliver grabbed a strong hold onto the handle, nearly squishing Percy to asphyxiation, and dropped them into a dive.

“Wooo!” Oliver cheered as he easily pulled them out of the sudden descent and into several dizzying loops. Percy prayed his glasses wouldn’t fall off. Then he gamely opened his eyes and forcefully redirected them into a more horizontal path. That accomplished, Percy glared at Oliver the best he could with his head half turned. Oliver gazed back at him, an innocent look on his face.

“I want to do it again,” Oliver declared as if he hadn’t almost killed them both.

“In Merlin’s name, no!” Percy firmly denied. There was a reason why Percy didn’t fly that often and only supported Quidditch from the ground. Now, here was another important thing to think about—trying to get his stomach to calm down. Percy didn’t think it would be a good thing if he lost his stomach up in the air. He was sure that someone, if there was anyone below them, wouldn’t appreciate a shower of vomit.

“We’re almost there anyway,” Percy added after he felt safe enough to speak. He led them into a smooth stop right outside his flat (not bad for someone who didn’t fly often). He got off the broom and could feel his knees shaking from the ride. Oliver was completely fine, of course, Percy snorted. Then, Percy pulled his wand from his sleeve and undid the locking charms.

“Here we are,” Percy said and directed Oliver inside. A swish of a wand and the room was brightly lit. Percy’s flat was small but neat. Oliver studied the room and muttered, “lovely! Looks warmer than I thought.”

“Thank you,” Percy said. “I’m not as cold as people think I am.”

People assumed that Percy’s flat would be sterile and cold, but that was silly. If he could and felt like it, Percy would have pointed out that he did grow up in the Burrow. There was no way he wouldn’t have adopted some things from his childhood. That included the knowledge of how to make your flat appear homey and full of warmth. Though it didn’t change his personality one bit, Percy thought ruefully. He really didn’t know how he was supposed to reconcile with his family. His personality was a major detriment.

“I know that,” Oliver replied. “I shared a dorm with you for seven years.”

Percy doubted that. Besides, didn’t they say you shouldn’t trust whatever a person says while drunk? It’s completely unreliable.

“Let’s get you into bed,” Percy said. “Follow me.”

“Are we sharing?” Oliver asked. “You never wanted to share back in school.”

“That’s because I was twelve, and…”Percy trailed off. Why didn’t he want to share a bed with Oliver? He would definitely share a bed with the man now. Percy scowled. More important things to think of, he reminded himself. What was he going to do tomorrow? Maybe tell his parents he’s actually a pouf even though he did love Penelope. Then, he could settle right on pursuing Oliver Wood. Percy mentally slapped himself. Important things! He would need to get over to the band of volunteers repairing Hogwarts. He would also need to find out what happened to his job (he’s not going to end up unemployed, would he?)

Percy didn’t bother lighting up his room. He dragged Oliver over to his bed and toppled Oliver onto the crisp pristine blanket and sheets. It made Percy wince, but what choice did he have? It wasn’t like he could say, Oliver, you need to change into clean pyjamas before climbing into bed. Percy could at least take off Oliver’s shoes, so he did that.

“Stay put and sleep,” Percy instructed. He didn’t have to worry because Oliver was already lightly snoring away. Percy stared. Oliver looked so wonderful sleeping in his bed.

“Bugger,” he said. There should be things more important than Oliver Wood to think and worry about, but right now there wasn’t any. Percy cursed again. How many more hours till it was dawn?


End file.
